


His and Mine Are the Same

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-11
Updated: 2007-09-11
Packaged: 2019-01-19 03:12:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12401904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Can reading a line in a book really help you to realize who it is you belong with?





	His and Mine Are the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

He awoke, in the sense that he opened his eyes and was no longer sleeping; but, he did not think one could call him aware.  The haze of a strange dream, a dream that was quickly becoming impossible to recall as its details slipped away from his mind, kept it from functioning at an acceptable speed.  One thing he was aware of, though, was the body beside him.  This was the same body that had lain by his side as he awoke for almost 20 years.  Waking up with her besides him was something he could count on.  Then again, he always could count on her to be by his side, to always tell him the truth, even if it hurt, making him stronger.  

He turned in the comfortable bed to watch her, the sun filtering softly through the window hangings to caress her face and her brown hair, which was a wonderful mess.

He watched as she slowly opened her brown eyes.  

It took her a few moments, milliseconds maybe, for the sleepy haze, which he found endearing, to vanish.  He could read her eyes like she could a book, causing him to wonder at how he could have found someone to love him so completely at the age of 11, even if it took him years to realize it.

A slow smile spread across her lips, which triggered one of his own.

“My hero” she murmured softly, leaning across the few inches separating them to place an affectionate kiss on his lips.

He smiled as she moved, and they were once again simply staring into one another’s eyes, taking advantage of the moments of calm and time that was theirs alone.  In another few minutes, they would have to get up and start the day.

If anyone else called him a hero, it bothered him.  They only saw the Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, The Boy Who Won, etc. etc.  When Ginny called him that, during their second attempt at a relationship, it bothered him because it was connected to the things he did in the war, the persona given to him by the public.  When Hermione called him that, it was for things others would consider mundane, like cleaning the house, keeping the kids entertained so she could get some work on a bill or proclamation on the rights for something along the lines of the house elves done.  Then, it warmed his heart and made him love her more.  

“What did I do to deserve the title this time?”  Harry asked quietly, reaching out to run his finger down her cheek.

Hermione smiled and closed her eyes briefly as he touched her before opening them to stare at him again, “Love me.”  She let the cliché slip from her lips.

“That’s easy.”  Harry smiled and as he looked into her eyes flashes of what brought them to this moment played in the dark depths.

 

_I am not a hero_

_I am not an angel_

_I am just a man_

_Man who's trying to love her_

_Unlike any other_

 

It was a Saturday, twenty years before, and Harry was in his flat, listening to a Puddlemere game on the wireless when Ron Apparated in, in front of him.

“Blimey!”  Harry shouted, startled enough to spill his butterbeer.

Ron plopped down next to Harry, “Sorry mate.” He grumbled.

Harry grabbed his wand and did a quick cleaning spell, “No worries, next time just…what’s wrong?”  He picked up on the cheerless mood his friend was in.

Ron grabbed the butterbeer from Harry and downed the rest of it before speaking, “Hermione broke things off.”

Harry’s eyes widened, “What?  Why?  What did you do?”

“Hey!”  Ron glared at his friend, “Why is it my fault?”

Harry was about to retort but realized he was being silly, “You’re right.  Did she tell you why?”

Ron sighed, “She was really straightforward about it; but, she’s Hermione, so of course she would be.”

“Ron!”  Harry rolled his eyes, “Why did she end things?”

“Oh, yeah.”  Ron smiled sheepishly, “We were sitting there.  Or she was sitting there reading a book and I was eating lunch, when she put down her book and said, ‘Ron, I think we should go back to just being friends.  I love you but I don’t belong with you’.  Just like that.  I asked her why she suddenly came to this conclusion, after cleaning up the food I’d spit out in my shock.  She handed me the book she was reading and pointed to a line and said, ‘I didn’t think of you’.”

Harry eyed his mate, “You look a bit shell-shocked but not overly upset.  When Hermione gets an epiphany, she doesn’t really mull it over before acting.  She attacks it with both barrels.”

“I saw it coming, now that I think about it.  We really were just friends in a relationship for the past year.  The initial euphoria as our relationship only lasted about a month after the battle and we just fell into a comfortable pattern…Bloody hell!  She’s rubbed off on me!”  Ron’s mouth fell open.

Harry laughed, “Are you going to be alright mate?”

“You got more butterbeer?”  Ron grinned.

“The fridge,” Harry answered.

Ron nodded and got up, “She’s still at her flat.”  He turned to see that Harry had already Apparated away.

 

_She's my inspiration_

_She's my northern star_

 

“Isn’t there a game on the wireless?”  Hermione asked as Harry walked into her kitchen, where she was nursing a cup of tea.

Harry went to her stove, after grabbing a cup from a cupboard, and poured himself a cup before sitting down at the table with her, “You’re more important than a silly Quidditch game.”

One dark brow on Hermione’s face rose, but she said nothing.

“Obviously, Ron came by,”  Harry continued, taking a sip of the tea.  He left it at that, knowing that she would explain or comment eventually.

A look of worry flashed into her brown eyes, “Is he okay?”

“He’s helping himself to my supply of butterbeer, but I think he’ll be fine.”  Harry replied.  He reached out and touched her hand gently, “I was worried about you.  How are you doing?”

Hermione smiled at him, “My hero” she murmured before sliding her hand away from his touch.  Then she frowned, “Sorry, I know how much you hate that, especially when Gin would say it.”

“Actually, I quite like it when you say it.”  Harry grinned.

They talked for quite some time, allowing her to hash out any residual feelings at breaking things off with Ron.  He was quite curious as to what it was in the book that gave Hermione the epiphany, but didn’t bring it up.

She did, however.

Harry watched as Hermione got up and went to the counter, where a hardback book was laying.

Hermione walked up to him and gave him a page number and then sat down as he read the page, waiting for him to realize what she had.

Harry skimmed the page, “Hermione, I’m just a man.  I don’t think I’ll be able to- oh.”  He paused, staring down at the page.

“I knew you’d find it.”  Hermione smiled.

Harry lifted his wonder-filled green eyes to her knowing brown as something began to tug at his brain, “If…if you didn’t think of Ron, who did you think of?”

“I think you know, Harry.”  Hermione said softly, reaching across the table to touch his hand in a fashion similar to the way he had hers when he first arrived. 

Harry stared at her in awe, as if seeing her for the first time, and turned his hand palm up to feather his fingers with hers, beginning to realize she was right, he knew, “Can it really be this simple?”

 

_In her eyes I see the sky and all I'll ever need_

_In her eyes time passes by and she is with me_

 

Twenty years after that moment her coffee-colored eyes shone with everything they had lived through, every touch, every whispered affirmation of love, much in the same manner they had when she’d had that brilliant epiphany.  Then again, no one would ever call her anything less than brilliant.

“My hero,” Harry murmured with a smile in his emerald depths.

A giggle bubbled from his wife’s lips, “What did I do to deserve that?”

“Oh, you just kept me alive when we were in school, stood by my side when no one else would, believed in me when no one else could, walked through fire with me and for me, married me, gave me beautiful children-“

“Don’t forget smart.”  Hermione interrupted.

Harry grinned, “Oh that was a given.”

Hermione leaned closer to him, “Anything else?  It does a girl good to start the day with a stroked ego.”

“Most of all,” Harry murmured, “you simply love me.”

“That’s the easy part,” Hermione replied before her lips met his tenderly and she felt the shiver in his body that she was sure matched her own.

 

_I am not a hero_

_I am not an angel_

_I am just a man_

_Man who's trying to love her_

_Unlike any other_

_In her eyes I am_

_In her eyes I am_

 

“Mum?”

It was later in the day when Hermione turned to her 16-year-old daughter, home for the summer, “Hmmm?”

The evidence that two adults in the picture on the mantel had done the right thing looked up at her mother, “How did you know that you and Daddy were doing the right thing?  Breaking up with Uncle Ron and Aunt Ginny and all?  And don’t say me.”  She rolled her big brown eyes.

Hermione smiled and held up a finger as she rose and left the couch to walk down the hall to the library.  She returned a short while later with a book that Emily could see had the title, _Wuthering Heights_ , across it before she opened it up to a particular page, handed it to her daughter, and pointed to a line, “Because when I read that, I thought of your father.”

Emily looked down and read the passage her mother was pointing to.  She smiled and looked up at her mother, “Honestly Mum, anyone could tell you that.”

Hermione laughed, taking the book back as her daughter got up in search of her father to ask him the same question.  She read the line quietly to herself as she sat down on the couch, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same”.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

 A/N:  Thanks to my beta, LadyBlueStar.

A/N2:  The song lyrics interspersed are to Josh Groban’s song “In Her Eyes”, which is composed by Michael Hunter Ochs/Jeff Cohen/Andy Selby. 


End file.
